


Respect

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Garak, Cultural Differences, Eventual Smut, First Time, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Through no fault of his own, Julian ends up telepathically spying on Garak's sexual fantasy. The circumstances of his discovery aren't ideal, but he's happy to make the idea reality, so why not seize the opportunity?Garak does not share his enthusiasm.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 80
Kudos: 315





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is almost complete, so I don't expect to leave you waiting very long.
> 
> Particular thanks to zaan and eilupt for kind encouragement on Tumblr as I struggled through the sex scene.

“The mystery is solved at last,” said Julian, eyeing the small oblong device which had perplexed Jadzia for weeks. “And it was ancient contraband all along.”

“The Organians are horrified this wasn’t destroyed thousands of years ago,” Jadzia told him, and that was putting it mildly. “Their Social Responsibility representative should be here tomorrow morning to ‘ensure it can no longer pose a threat to any corporeal being.’”

“That might be overstating the case.”

Surely the problem was self-evident. “It intrudes on people’s thoughts to telepathically transmit sexual desires without consent. That is a serious breach of privacy, Julian.” Evidently in the past some so-called deviant Organians liked to take corporeal forms to enjoy pleasures of the flesh, and as far as Jadzia was concerned there was nothing wrong with that, but designing a machine to find compatible partners by reading their minds was highly unethical.

“I know,” said Julian. “This device would be a cause for concern, _if_ it still worked. My point is, it’s been on the station for nearly two months without incident.”

“True,” agreed Jadzia.

“That being the case, I don’t think its continued existence qualifies as quite the emergency the Organians seem to think.”

As soon as she’d been able to make out some vaguely Organian characters with an experimental technique to work around the effects of millennia, Jadzia had sent an inquiry without expecting a response. Organians were not known for being very helpful to Federation scientists. On the contrary, they usually said that younger races needed to figure the universe out without help, and that was on the rare occasions they bothered to say anything at all. As a rule, they kept to themselves outside of offering their services for peace negotiations. It was therefore surprising to hear back within three days. Evidently the Organians took their social responsibility very seriously.

“I’m not going to get into an argument with the Organian Council of Elders,” said Jadzia.

“May I be here when the representative comes? I’d love to meet an Organian.”

“Sure. But I wouldn’t expect a long conversation if I were you.” Not that Jadzia wouldn’t enjoy a good talk herself. She just had reasonable expectations.

“Speaking of conversations, I’m supposed to meet Garak for lunch soon. Computer, time.”

“The time is thirteen forty-one.”

Julian groaned. “Damn! I’m sure I set an alarm so I wouldn’t be late.”

“Did you update your combadge software?” asked Jadzia. Chief O’Brien had been very clear that without the update, combadges would not interface perfectly with the station’s new computer system. There had been a station-wide memo and everything.

Julian didn’t have to answer. The look on his face did that for him, but he spoke anyway. “I meant to do it last night. Then I got caught up in research to defend _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ from Garak’s inevitable criticism and forgot all about it.”

“Well, now he’ll have something else to criticize.”

“I’d better go face the music,” said Julian, looking quite resigned.

When he reached the door, it opened to reveal a very peeved Garak. “Really, Doctor. I’m quite understanding when your duties require you to cancel lunch, but if you’re not in the middle of a surgery I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect notification.”

“I’m sorry, Garak. I forgot to update my combadge software so my alarm didn’t…” Julian stopped without finishing his explanation. His expression registered complete shock, though Jadzia didn’t see anything to cause it.

Then he looked at the device.

Oh, no. “Julian, tell me it didn’t start working.”

He swallowed hard. “I wish I could.”

Jadzia was impressed that the device still worked after forty thousand years, give or take a couple millennia. If only the Organians made their technology a little less durable. Of all the people on the station, Garak was unquestionably the most private and therefore more likely to react badly to having his lustful thoughts broadcast, and that wasn’t even getting into how awkward this had to be for Julian.

Although it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that Garak had lustful thoughts about Julian.

She picked up the device. “What are you doing?” asked Julian.

“Looking for the off switch.”

“It’s a bit late for that.”

“Will one of you kindly explain what’s going on?” asked Garak.

Julian flushed. Whether from embarrassment or arousal, it was impossible to say. “Sorry, Garak. Classified.”

Garak wasn’t fooled for a second. “You are an extremely unconvincing liar, Doctor.”

“It was worth a shot,” Julian sighed. “First things first. Let’s go somewhere more private. No offense, Jadzia.”

“None taken.”

She didn’t envy Julian his conversation one bit. On the other hand, if this got them to do more than flirt over lunch twice a week, it might not be a disaster after all.

* * *

Doctor Bashir was not, generally speaking, a difficult man to read. He wore his emotions with shocking openness, and even when he did attempt to conceal one, rarely managed any success of which to speak. So it was puzzling, intriguing, and more than a touch worrisome when Garak found himself unable to parse the doctor’s current mood or even hazard a guess as to what was going through his mind.

What was that suddenly-operational device? It was the key to the present situation, that much was certain. Bashir refused to speak about it until they reached his quarters, which, considering the many subjects he was happy to discuss in public, meant it must be serious indeed.

The doctor was apprehensive, but also… excited? If his expressions were vacillating this quickly, how fast must his thoughts have been racing? Garak was truly at a loss.

When the doors to his quarters shut, Bashir finally said, “You might want to sit down.”

Why humans liked to sit for difficult conversations, Garak would never understand. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” said Bashir, and didn’t so much sit as fall onto his couch. “That artifact the archaeological survey found on Xancor V was Organian.”

“Fascinating, I’m sure, but what does that have to do with your sudden shock and desire for privacy?” Archaeologists, after all, uncovered artifacts every day. Seeing Doctor Bashir this unbalanced was a much more singular experience.

“It’s an illegal device to find willing and compatible sexual partners.”

Well, Garak certainly hadn’t expected _that_. “And how does such a thing work?”

“By scanning peoples’ minds for sexual thoughts and fantasies, then telepathically relaying those thoughts to the user.”

Garak stilled. Just before he arrived at the science lab, he’d been thinking of how pleasant it would be if Bashir’s tardiness was a mere pretext for seductive argument. That was quite bad enough on its own, but worse still, he had entertained thoughts, in what he had every reason to believe was the privacy of his own mind, as to how exactly such an encounter would play out. Thoughts he absolutely did not want anyone to know, least of all Bashir.

“We thought it wasn’t working. Obviously, we were wrong.” Bashir did not manage to look at Garak. “So, the bad news is, I’m afraid I very inadvertently eavesdropped on your fantasy.”

That was bad news indeed. Garak fervently wished he hadn’t let himself slip into such untoward musings in the first place. Although, really, how was he supposed to know a machine was reading his mind and sharing the information? He hadn’t known such a thing existed.

“The good news,” and here Bashir once more made eye contact, “is that I’m happy to live out the fantasy with you.”

Left with no good defenses, Garak went on the offensive. “You seem quite certain I want to.”

Bashir appeared confused. “Well, yes. That is the entire point of the device.”

“Has no one ever explained to you that some fantasies are best left unrealized?” Nearly all of them, in fact.

“You’re making this far more complicated than it has to be, Garak.” Exasperated, Bashir stood up and encroached on Garak’s personal space. “I’m sorry I got this knowledge about you without your consent, but I did and there’s nothing I can do about it. So we can pretend this never happened and let everything get awkward, or we can seize the opportunity.”

He would say that. He wasn’t the one who… no. Garak was not going to think about it again. Who knew what range that cursed machine had?

“There is no opportunity to seize. Good day, Doctor.”

And with that, Garak left Bashir’s quarters before he lost any more of his dignity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem is revealed.

Julian had messed up. Again. According to Jadzia, he hadn’t treated the violation of Garak’s privacy with enough concern. That had never been his intention, of course, but it would hardly be the first time he accidentally moved too fast. He’d never denied that the sharing of Garak’s thoughts was intrusive and unfair, though. He just thought, if they wanted the same thing, why not go for it? Wouldn’t that make the invasion of privacy better, if it ended well?

Regardless, in an attempt to make up for his lack of sensitivity, he let Garak lick his wounds for an entire week without pushing the matter. When Garak failed to show up for lunch again, Julian decided if he didn’t push a little bit, he might never see Garak again. In fact, he hadn’t seen Garak even out of the corner of his eye since the man left his quarters.

After making sure Garak was alone in his shop, Julian took a deep breath, reminded himself not to minimize the intrusion Garak suffered, and walked inside.

“Hello, Garak.”

Garak was all business and no eye contact. “Doctor. How may I help you?”

“I came to apologize, first of all. I… didn’t handle things very well last week, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored how terrible it must be for you to have your privacy violated.”

“Apology accepted. Now, if you haven’t come for tailoring or to make a purchase, I’m quite busy and must ask you to leave.”

This was even worse than Julian had thought. “Look, just tell me how you want to handle this. Do you want to pretend it never happened? Because I’ll do that.” It would take some serious compartmentalizing, and a bit of time, but Julian was willing if it meant he didn’t lose Garak’s friendship. Not speaking with Garak for a week had reminded him, again, that he missed the man terribly when they didn’t see each other. Only it was worse than when Garak left with Tain, because this time he was still on DS9, probably finding lunch too quiet and lonely as well.

No. Julian wasn’t about to let some ancient mind probe (one which, it turned out, had dwindled in capacity over the millennia to a very limited range and incidentally was incompatible with joined Trill physiology, but worked all too well on humans and Cardassians) ruin a relationship which meant so much to him. Garak had been Julian’s first friend on DS9 and was the most exhilarating conversationalist he’d ever met. Sex would be great, fantastic even, but Julian could live without that. He didn’t want to live without Garak’s company.

“I’m afraid it’s far too late to pretend it never happened,” said Garak.

“Does that mean you want to talk about it?” Stranger things had happened, if rarely.

“No.”

Garak was giving him even less to work with than usual. Julian resisted the urge to sigh. “Then what do you want, Garak?”

“None of the options available to me.”

“I got that. Out of those options, what’s the least objectionable?”

Garak stood, and the next thing Julian knew, they were in Garak’s warm quarters. “Did you hack the internal transporter?”

“Did it occur to you that a customer could’ve walked in at any time?” countered Garak.

“I thought you’d lock the door,” said Julian. He hoped Garak had done a good job hiding this transport, or he was in for an _extremely_ awkward conversation with Captain Sisko.

“And allow costumers to see that we were inside? Don’t be ridiculous, Doctor.”

Julian had a distinct feeling he was missing something here. Something of great importance.

* * *

Of course Bashir couldn’t leave matters alone.

Garak had thought, given time, he might be able to content himself with being lowered in Bashir’s esteem if it meant they could continue to enjoy their lunches. Perhaps the doctor’s respect for him would be lesser, but it might not be entirely gone, and Garak’s options for companionship were woefully limited.

But no, Doctor Bashir couldn’t leave the matter alone, could he? He had to barge into Garak’s shop and insist on having his way, the infuriatingly attractive man.

Fine. If Bashir wouldn’t let the subject rest and there was no escaping the consequences of his knowledge, Garak decided he may as well enjoy the sex. Given the choice, he would have preferred to keep Bashir’s good opinion, but it was clearly no longer an option.

“I have no desire to allow customers to see me in any compromised position,” he said.

“Compromised? You mean…”

He was going to make Garak say it, wasn’t he? Well, such a thing was only to be expected. “You know what I want, Doctor.”

Bashir’s face lit up. “Yes.” He stepped closer with a grin. “I’d like to kiss you now.”

Garak responded by placing his hands on Bashir’s shoulders, which was all the encouragement the doctor needed. He took Garak’s face in his hands and proceeded with an extremely thorough kiss.

Kissing, in Garak’s opinion, was largely overrated. He nevertheless responded in kind, which in short order earned him a delightful sound of pleasure from Bashir. Now that was promising.

“I’ve heard rumors,” said Bashir. Another kiss. “That Cardassian neck ridges are very sensitive.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

Bashir traced a finger down Garak’s left neck ridge and did not fail to notice the way that traitorous body part immediately began to darken. “I think I can believe that particular rumor.” Satisfied, he moved to kiss his way down Garak’s neck, which was exquisite.

“You know, I could reach a lot more without this tunic in the way. Now how does it come off?”

Garak obligingly removed the garment, as well as his thermal undershirt, and was gratified to see Bashir’s eyes widen in approval. It was not news to Garak that he did not exactly meet standards of Cardassian beauty. This did not appear to bother Bashir in the least, and he commenced a thorough exploration of Garak’s neck and shoulders.

It felt so good to have Bashir’s nimble mouth working its way along his body, and yet Garak was struck by just how much he had lost.

He ought to have been used to loss by now.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Julian was no body language expert, but he could tell when a lover was hesitating. Garak had been enjoying the attention Julian was lavishing on his shoulder – until suddenly he pulled back. Not physically, no. But his ridges weren’t responding to Julian’s kisses the way they had been a moment ago, he’d stopped shifting slightly to alter the parts of his body Julian touched, and his breathing pattern had a certain deliberation to it.

Julian stopped kissing and looked at the man. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all,” said Garak.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Don’t play the fool, Doctor. It doesn’t suit you.”

That sounded serious. “I’m not playing anything, Garak. You were enjoying what I was doing, and then you weren’t. If you’ve changed your mind, you only have to say so.”

Garak huffed. “Let me guess. You’re about to promise you’ll still respect me tomorrow.”

It occurred to Julian that perhaps there were some Cardassian sexual politics of which he was ignorant. He stepped back to give Garak space. “I thought it went without saying.”

“Is that how it works in the Federation?”

Julian grew more concerned. “Garak, would you please tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s really quite cruel of you to insist.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel. I honestly do not have the slightest clue what you’re worried about. Excepting a few subcultures, on Earth we don’t have to tell anyone we’ll respect them in the morning because sleeping with someone doesn’t cost you respect.” Julian had never understood how people used to think that way in the first place. Sex was fun. So long as everyone involved wanted it, where exactly was the problem?

“How nice for you,” said Garak flatly.

“Alright. It doesn’t work that way on Cardassia. We used to have that on Earth, where women were expected to remain virgins until marriage. I’m sorry to say most of our history is marked with misogyny.”

“Cardassian women are under no such restrictions.”

From Garak, that was an actual concession to giving Julian information. He thought for a moment. “Is Cardassian society homophobic?”

Garak gave him a look of great insult. “Of course not. We are not Klingons.”

“Only a concern for men but not homophobia… is this because you want me to top you?”

For a moment Garak did not deign to respond. Then, finally, he asked, “Do you mean to tell me, Doctor, that human men can go around freely known as catamites without any loss of respect?”

There was so much pain and shame in that question, Julian hardly knew where to begin. He decided to start with the simple answer. “Yes.”

“I see.”

“We went through our own less enlightened periods, of course, but today, how you like to have sex doesn’t matter, so long as it’s consensual. I’ve bottomed before. It’s not my preference, as a rule, but it has all the social consequences of not caring for beets.”

“What’s a beet?” asked Garak.

“A root vegetable, and don’t change the subject. How is it not homophobic to consider being penetrated degrading?”

“Men are free to form relationships with each other. They generally keep all of their sexual activities external.”

“Or that’s what they want you to think,” muttered Julian. “Wait, does that mean no oral sex either?”

“Naturally.”

Julian, who liked to give and receive oral, thought Cardassia sounded lousier by the minute. He was suddenly very grateful to be born in a time and place where he could sleep with both men and women, however he liked, and nobody thought this made him a lesser person. “So you’ve spent the last week believing I think less of you now that I know how you prefer to have sex. And you were going to go through with it anyway because…”

“A man in my position takes what he can get,” said Garak stiffly, looking as though he wished very much to be anywhere but there.

“Oh, Garak.” Julian risked stepping closer, watching carefully to see if it was a bad move and finding no such indications. “You can have both. My respect and sex. It’s not either or.”

When no response was forthcoming, he simply stood there, waiting, knowing the next move had to be Garak’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter count went up. Don't worry, it's still almost done, I just decided to split it up differently.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story earns its E rating.

Cardassian men did not allow other men into their bodies. It simply wasn’t done unless one was a professional catamite or it was the only leverage one had in a situation. Garak had used his proclivities as part of his cover stories, when he was a young man, until Tain had noticed he had been too eager to make that particular sacrifice and put a stop to it.

And now here was Julian Bashir with his Federation open-mindedness, making promises which sounded far too good to be true but Garak desperately wanted to believe. If he could have one thing on this cold station, he would choose being able to share lunches and his bed with Bashir, with the latter having no impact on the delights of the former.

Garak did not trust anything which sounded too good to be true. Experience had taught him that to believe such words was folly.

Yet… if anyone was idealistic enough to make such a pledge in good faith, surely it was Bashir, and furthermore, if the doctor truly did find Garak unworthy of his company outside the bedroom, the damage was done, was it not?

“You obviously need time,” said Bashir. “I’ll see myself out.”

That concern for Garak’s desires, so very characteristic of the doctor, spurred Garak into a decision. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for.”

Time would not solve the fundamental problem. Either Bashir was being truthful about his views on sexual roles as they related to his esteem, or he was not. A day, a week, or half a year would make not the slightest bit of difference.

Lacking a better option thanks to the Organian device, and having a not inconsiderable amount of evidence to suggest Doctor Bashir was not prone to deceit, Garak opted to do something truly dangerous, even reckless. He extended trust.

“I assure you, I’m quite ready. Don’t make me say it again.”

Bashir considered for the briefest of moments, then apparently decided to take Garak at his word. “In that case, perhaps we could take this to the bed?”

Garak had long wanted to take Bashir to his bed. Since the moment he laid eyes on the man, in fact, though he’d long ago resigned himself to utter disinterest on the doctor’s part. How delightful to be wrong on that count. In any event, he was only too happy to lead the way to the bed. He sat, expecting Bashir to do the same – which he did, in a way. The way in question was to seat himself on Garak’s thighs and lean in for more kissing, all the while gently stroking a single finger around Garak’s right neck ridge.

It was always beneficial when one’s new lover was a quick study.

After a solid three minutes of kissing and ridge fondling, Garak grew annoyed that Bashir remained fully dressed. Preferences notwithstanding, Garak was not naturally inclined to be passive during sex, and he wanted to touch skin, not the hideous Starfleet uniform.

“Don’t you think you’re overdressed?” he asked.

“You are the expert,” agreed Bashir, and pushed down the zipper.

In truth, his high-necked undershirt on its own was no better than the jumpsuit. However, when he briefly stood to yank the entire uniform off, Garak made two determinations. One: as predicted, the uniform looked vastly better on his floor than on Bashir. Two: the doctor had exceptionally lovely legs.

“Better?” asked Bashir once he wore nothing but his underwear.

“Why, Doctor, I can’t remember the last time I saw such an agreeable sight.” It was a lie, of course. He remembered perfectly. One didn’t forget one’s last sight of Cardassia when being exiled.

In regards to lovers, however… well, Garak didn’t have any comparison as he’d never taken any species other than his own to his bed, excepting one regrettable evening with an Orion which he preferred not to recall in any detail. He could only assume that by human standards, Bashir was magnificent indeed.

“I’d prefer to be Julian, here.”

Such a thing wasn’t as automatic in Cardassian culture as it seemed to be in human, but Garak wasn’t opposed to using Bashir’s first name. The trouble came with his own. Few people had ever used his given name once he reached adulthood. Mila had, and Tain. Garak did not particularly want to hear a name from Bashir’s lips which reminded him of Tain.

“I suppose I can accommodate,” he said carefully.

“Good,” said Bashir, and straddled Garak’s lap again.

* * *

When Julian brought up the use of his own first name, Garak’s hesitance was so clear that even someone of Julian’s less-than-ideal ability to read people knew to tread carefully. Or maybe it was that he was better at reading Garak because if you didn’t make careful study, you’d never know anything about Garak at all. Either way, he therefore decided to keep right on calling Garak ‘Garak’ until invited otherwise. It didn’t bother him, anyway. Honestly, he knew Garak had a first name (presuming Tain was being truthful, which he doubted was a sure bet), but somehow the single name suited him.

Anyway, there were more interesting things to be focusing on at the moment. Julian just didn’t like being called ‘Doctor’ in bed. It tended to dampen his mood, and he’d been waiting far too long to be in Garak’s bed to let anything interfere.

(As it turned out, a surprising number of people wanted to roleplay erotic medical scenes with a real doctor. Julian had tried it once and that was more than enough.)

Among the details capturing Julian’s attention at the moment was the way Garak’s chest felt pressed against his own. The texture was incredible, not least because the protective ridges covering vital organs were far smoother than they looked, and yet by virtue of protruding they rubbed Julian’s skin in the most enticing manner. 

Maybe the lack of texture on Julian’s skin was just as interesting to Garak, because his hands were roving all over Julian’s back and, ah, yes, into his hair as well. “Mmm,” said Julian by way of encouragement.

Now. Back to those neck ridges. Garak’s body responded to attention there much more favorably than kissing, and while Julian liked the latter, he enjoyed plenty of other things as well. In his experience, kissing was a safe way to start. Maybe not with Cardassians; he’d try to work that out later. In the present, he was delighted to discover that with enough massaging, the ridges not only flushed dark grey, they also swelled up in what could only, judging by Garak’s enthusiastic response, be pleasure.

Garak, meanwhile, had discovered that Julian liked having his bottom kneaded and was putting this knowledge to good use.

“Computer,” said Garak suddenly, “decrease temperature by two point five degrees.”

“I’m not in danger of heat stroke,” protested Julian.

Garak did not look convinced, even though this was entirely true. “Allow me to be a conscientious host, please.”

Oh, this was going to be one of those Cardassian social requirements. Fine. “I guess we’ll have to keep you warm in other ways, then,” Julian said, and punctuated this by trailing his tongue around the contours of Garak’s shoulder ridge.

After a notably sharp intake of breath, Garak replied, “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

* * *

Bashir – well, Garak supposed he was allowed to think of the man as Julian, which was stunningly intimate in Cardassian terms – had a very nimble tongue. Garak would not have objected to the application of teeth, but he certainly had no complaints about the thorough lavishing Julian gave to his right shoulder.

And the pheromones! Garak was led to believe Cardassians enjoyed a more finely-honed sense of smell than humans, and he was glad of it. What a shame it would be to miss the rich, musky, and utterly alien scent Julian was exuding. It was almost oceanic, which was fitting for a species originating on a world so covered in seas.

Then there was the unmistakable firmness where Julian’s crotch pressed against Garak. Unmistakable if one had made even a cursory study of human sexual practices, at least. How thrilling to know that their current activities aroused Julian so thoroughly.

Not that it was difficult to know what Julian enjoyed. Whenever Garak did something he liked, he made a noise of pleasure. Garak experimentally adjusted his posture to press harder against Julian’s erection and he earned the most hedonistic response yet.

“Now you’re the one who’s overdressed,” said Julian.

Garak was happy to rectify the problem, though sadly that did require Julian rolling off his lap. He disrobed completely, and after setting aside his clothing, turned to see Julian had divested himself of the last of his clothing.

Human men certainly didn’t leave any questions about their arousal.

Garak’s slit softened further at the sight of what he would soon enjoy, a much more discreet process than the human alternative. By Cardassian standards, Julian was cursed with excessive length. Fortunately, that had never bothered Garak in the least.

“I’m not, ah, doing anything wrong, am I?” asked Julian.

“No. Why?”

He gestured between Garak’s legs. “My knowledge of Cardassian reproductive physiology isn’t as complete as I’d like, but I thought you’d be everting.”

“In due time,” Garak assured him.

Julian clearly had a question on his mind – when exactly due time would be, no doubt – but abandoned it in favor of trailing his fingers down Garak’s chest, a part of Garak’s body which was not particularly sensitive to caresses.

This was very odd. They were both naked, and given their previously established roles, Garak couldn’t imagine why Julian was doing nothing more than slowly circling his hand towards Garak’s genital ridges. Was the physiological difference truly that alarming? Not if the continued prominence of Julian’s erection meant what Garak thought it did. Perhaps humans used delaying tactics in sexual encounters for some purpose. In retrospect, his research on human sexual practices had not been nearly thorough enough, though in his defense, he’d seen no indication he would have any occasion to use said research.

After discarding several oblique turns of phrase Julian would likely misunderstand and/or find insulting, Garak reluctantly settled on being direct. “I believe I can ask the same question of you.”

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing wrong. Why do you ask?”

Stating the obvious again, Garak replied, “You seem to be procrastinating.”

“Procrastinating?” Julian made a peculiar expression of amusement, one which caused his mouth to do a fascinating series of movements. So emotive, this man. So open. “I take it you’re not big on foreplay, then.”

Garak very much enjoyed foreplay. They’d been engaging in the verbal variety for years now, so he hardly thought they could be accused of undue haste, though he granted humans took a different view of spirited debate. “Is that a preference of yours?”

“Yes and no.”

Well. Julian could be cryptic when he wanted, even if he rarely so desired. Garak appreciated the game. He’d have appreciated it more at an appropriate time, such as when he had clothes on, and he considered for a moment. “You like variety,” he guessed.

“Something like that. But in human culture, a man is often deemed an inconsiderate lover if he rushes.”

Ah, that sounded like the voice of experience speaking. “I assure you, I will take no offense.” In fact, he would prefer if Julian would, as he believed the Terran expression went, get on with it.

“In that case, do you have a preferred lubricant?”

Garak did, and after a brief query to the computer ensuring the oil in question had no known adverse effect on humans, requested it from the replicator. Julian dipped the pad of one finger in the small bowl and seemed satisfied without even smelling it. Whether this was a concession to proceeding as Garak preferred or a disinclination to olfactory examination, Garak couldn’t say and decided he didn’t much care once Julian moved to start putting the oil to good use.

“Is it safe to assume you require preparation before penetration?” asked Julian.

“As much as I dislike rewarding a bad habit, yes.”

Julian gave a very alluring grin and settled himself on Garak’s bed, which had never looked so inviting. Garak wasted no time in lying next to him and accepting the first lovely long finger as it gently breached him.

He soon discovered that there were unanticipated but welcome benefits to bedding a serial overachiever. Julian used one hand to stretch Garak’s sphincter - rather more gently than was required, but perhaps humans had different standards for this as well – and the other to massage his genital ridges, while also lavishing oral attention on the part of Garak’s left shoulder he could reach. Granted, it was not the most sensitive area, as the further one went from the neck, the less pleasurable sensations became, but his efforts were by no means in vain.

Garak, for his part, was advancing his mental map of Julian’s body. It would take more time and repeat sessions to complete, of course. He was nevertheless eager to learn as much as possible, not least because he so enjoyed discovering what kind of sounds he could elicit. A gentle touch trailing down the back of Julian’s neck over his spine and Julian made a barely audible gasp. Taking as much buttock in hand as possible and squeezing earned Garak a particular short moan. This would all merit further exploration. A great deal of it, in fact.

“Are you ready for a second finger?”

“Quite.” Garak took the opportunity to adjust his position slightly, thus earning himself a better angle of pressure against the ridges covering his rapidly-softening slit. Julian picked up on this. “Harder here?”

“I wouldn’t object.”

Julian noted the increased pliability of the area and looked extremely pleased. In fairness, he could take considerable credit for the current state of affairs.

While Julian continued his very thorough stretching, Garak did not see a single indication of lessened respect. One could expect such a thing by this point on Cardassia. One would, in fact, be foolish not to. There would be a change in tone, an assumption that the man in Garak’s position was not worthy of being treated as an equal. There would not be a series of open-mouthed kisses dropped on his shoulder. Taking pleasure from penetration tended to involve forsaking it from external stimulation, after a certain point in the coupling at the very least.

There would also not be a warm, tender voice saying, “Tell me when you’re ready,” with such softness. Truly, Garak could not recall ever having felt so valued during sex.

Perhaps this was more dangerous than he’d calculated.

He was not about to stop, however. Not when Julian’s fingers felt so splendid, inside and out, when he could practically bask in the heady scent unique to Julian Bashir, when he wanted to welcome Julian’s length into his body and for once it appeared just possible that he could have what he wanted without negative consequence.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

Garak lay on his back, and happily Julian did not object to the position. There were rumors in the less refined segments of Cardassian society suggesting humans, highly credulous creatures that they were, would turn their backs to any and all sexual partners. Garak wouldn’t be surprised if the whispers were at least partly true. He himself could not possible enjoy such a vulnerable position. While he was extending a significant amount of trust, he couldn’t discard a lifetime of caution and was already more exposed – in so many ways – than he preferred.

The rewards, however, looked promising indeed. Julian conscripted a pillow into service under Garak, fussing with it briefly before appearing satisfied with the alignment of their bodies. Then, finally, he began to ease himself inside Garak.

“Ohh,” he said, a single syllable dragged out, heavy with pleasure. Garak understood the sentiment perfectly.

Julian pressed further in and made a keening sound quite unlike anything Garak had yet heard. Rather alarmingly so, in fact, but everything else about his body language suggested he was enjoying himself tremendously, not least the slightly disbelieving smile, so Garak concluded the noise was a positive indication. Evidently there was no end to the vocalizations Julian made during sex. What a delightful discovery.

The sensation of his fingers playing with Garak’s slit was delightful, as well. Julian tantalized those sensitive ridges while he proceeded to further into Garak. The combined stimulation alone would’ve been marvelous enough. That it was Julian Bashir just heighten Garak’s enjoyment.

There was some mild discomfort as he accommodated Julian’s length, true, but that wasn’t even worth consideration. Everything else was too good. Garak had long wanted this; to be filled with Julian, to watch the play of lust on that expressive face and feel the strength of Julian’s focus on their bodies, to take until Julian could go no further.

The fact that no one had ever gone so deeply into him gave an extra thrill, and the exquisite pressure combined with the dancing fingers around his slit caused Garak to evert in one smooth motion.

He should not have so soon. A Cardassian man ought to evert immediately before he penetrated someone, or when his orgasm was imminent. Never before, and this was a shameful lack of self-control on Garak’s part, made worse still because it was prompted by allowing himself to be taken by an alien.

Or it would have been, with a Cardassian. Julian watched the process with delight and said, “That is extremely hot.”

Well. There was no need to educate him on this particular aspect of Cardassian sexual mores, was there?

Garak gave himself wholly over to the experience of being bedded by Julian, or as completely as he was able. (He could never entirely forsake diligent awareness of his surroundings. Besides, should someone break into his quarters, one of them had to be able to respond with appropriate defensive measures, and it obviously wouldn’t be Julian.) There was, he decided, a great deal to be said in favor of a sexual partner who did not believe Garak’s preferences ought to be shameful. Julian, evidently pleased with Garak’s sudden eversion, began to slowly move. Too slowly. Garak moved in counterpoint, prompting Julian to lean over Garak’s body, supporting himself on his arms, and adopt a more satisfying pace.

“You feel fantastic,” said Julian.

“I can say the same.”

Julian’s face grew more flushed. Compliments in bed were appreciated, then. Garak made note for future use.

For his own part, Garak hadn’t enjoyed himself this much since before his exile, and doubted he’d taken this much pleasure in sex ever. Evidently the act was greatly improved by a partner concerned with the quality of his experience.

Julian was most certainly conscientious – not to mention flexible and adept at multi-tasking, as he managed to thoroughly fuck Garak while returning to his previous oral neck ridge ministrations. Garak thought he would soon explain that a few bites would not go amiss. If Julian could do this with his tongue and lips, who knew what he could accomplish with his teeth? Garak very much wished to find out.

After several blissful minutes of intense pleasure, Julian panted, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

And to think, Garak had just started to come around to the merits of drawing out intercourse, human-style. Perhaps they could revisit the subject in the future. “Then don’t,” he said.

By this point, Julian was no longer leaning over Garak. Instead he knelt between Garak’s legs, both of which had found their way over his shoulders, which provided an excellent view of his many and varied facial expressions. It also afforded a very good position for the vigorous treatment Garak was so thoroughly enjoying. Not content to lie idly, Garak had tried three or four motions of his own before settling on a slight rocking which enhanced the experience for them both.

“Stroke yourself?” Unlike the command Garak was used to – an acknowledgement that his completion was his own responsibility – this sounded much more like a request. Garak therefore was happy to comply, and sure enough, Julian watched with undisguised enjoyment.

“Mmm,” said Julian, followed by a little grunt. “God, yes, that’s it…” and then he trailed off into a prolonged groan as he spilled into Garak.

It didn’t take more than a few strokes for Garak to reach the same point, not least because he was so aroused to by knowledge that he was now filled most intimately with Julian’s seed, and because the smell of Julian’s completion was thick and glorious. Soon the tangy, unmistakable scent of Cardassian orgasm joined the olfactory chorus and, for a brief moment, Garak knew nothing but Julian and physical ecstasy.

It was at this point that a Cardassian partner would be done with Garak and depart. Julian, however, withdrew from Garak’s body, watched Garak’s retraction with interest both personal and professional, and flopped beside him on the bed, breathing hard. He did not seem inclined to dress and leave in the near future.

This had never happened to Garak before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He therefore did the only sensible thing: he waited.

After Julian’s breathing returned to normal, he looked over at Garak with a hopeful smile. “We should do this again.”

Garak was in complete agreement. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Good,” said Julian. While he did absolutely nothing, Garak retrieved their clothing and put on his own pants. Julian watched through half-closed eyes. “How do you have energy for that right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” It was better to be fully dressed unless activities demanded otherwise. Not least because it was easy to conceal a few blades in clothing and much harder to do when nude, thought Garak had on occasion in the past managed to hide a thin knife under his hair.

Julian replied, “I’ll chalk that up to different physiology.”

Then his current torpor was normal for a human after sex. How typical of humans to be so vulnerable and think nothing of it.

After a few minutes, Julian’s energy began to return, and he propped himself up on one elbow. “Am I committing some Cardassian faux pas by not hurrying to get dressed?”

If he wanted to lounge on Garak’s bed naked, Garak was not about to complain. These quarters had never looked so good as with Julian undressed. “Not at all. We avoid it for practical reasons, but you needn’t worry about offending me.”

“Practical reasons, hmm? Would that have anything to do with the knife I felt in your sleeve?”

So he had noticed. “Possibly.”

Whatever Julian intended to say was cut off rather dramatically when his stomach rumbled. He looked down, slightly abashed. “I worked through lunch today.”

“Then I believe you’re overdue for a meal.”

“I suppose I am.”

Having been given this clear excuse to leave, Julian seemed disinclined to take it. He wasn’t even reaching for his clothes. Thus Garak offered an alternative. “You’re welcome to avail yourself of my replicator.”

Julian sat up with speed. “I’ll take you up on that, thank you.”

He then put on his clothes, except his uniform jacket, and in short order was seated at Garak’s table with a Trill dish. “Jadzia says the replicator pattern doesn’t do it justice, but I like it anyway,” he said before taking his first bite. “Aren’t you eating?”

Garak ordered a sem’hal stew and brought it to his table, which was never intended to seat two and thus made for close proximity. He’d no sooner seated himself when Julian, while loading his fork, remarked, “We never did get to discuss _The Picture of Dorian Gray_.”

“Must I waste any more of my time on that book?” Garak asked. In truth he was delighted to do so, not least because it suggested Julian was sincere in his desire to add sexual activities to their interactions without taking away the conversation Garak prized so highly.

“You love it, really. What’s so bad about _Dorian Gray_?”

“Everything,” said Garak. “To name but one in a sea of examples, the plot device was absurd. How does a painted portrait take on a man’s age, never mind physical characteristics suggesting his less desirable personality traits? It defies all sense.”

“Isn’t there a Cardassian equivalent to suspension of disbelief?”

Humans had the strangest notions. They rushed through meals, tarried during sex, and gave authors ridiculous concessions. “No. It is the author’s job, if they choose to enter fantastical realms, to convince the reader of plausibility. Which, I must say, your Wilde failed to do in a most appalling fashion.”

Julian’s eyes widened in dismay and, as he was wont to do when he found one of Garak’s statements particularly egregious, he momentarily forgot about his food. “But that takes so much fun out of reading!”

Garak ate a small spoonful of his stew, the better to pause and savor their debate. It appeared his life had taken an unexpected and most welcome turn, and he was willing to admit, to himself at least, that neither the Organian device and Federation thinking were entirely without merit.

* * *

Without the constraints of a finite lunch break, Julian and Garak’s discussion went on for quite a while longer than usual. After agreeing to disagree on the value of suspending disbelief, they extensively covered _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ Nothing in the conversation was unusual for them; aside from the length, it might have taken place during one of their usual Replimat lunches. The continuity was slightly strange at first to Julian, who was used to some differences after sleeping with someone. Then again, he’d never been friends with someone for so long before sex, and he’d definitely never known anyone like Garak. Besides, thinking back to their earlier discussion about Cardassian sexual prejudice, a typical discussion seemed to be exactly what Garak needed to know Julian didn’t share in the frankly ridiculous Cardassian ideas about sexual roles.

It was telling that Garak at no point so much as attempted to defend that particular Cardassian perspective.

When Julian could barely stop himself yawning, he realized it was time to return to his own quarters and go to bed. At a lull in the conversation, he said, “It’s getting late.”

“So it is,” said Garak, and nothing further. He was still treading carefully at key moments, heartbreakingly uncertain just how much he could rely on not having the rug pulled out from under him. Julian’s first response was offense that Garak didn’t trust him, quickly followed by chastising himself. This wasn’t about him. It was about Garak never having been given reasons to trust – anyone, if Julian didn’t miss his guess.

Julian would just have to give it time and consistent demonstrations of his ongoing respect. To that end, he suggested, “I have a chess board in my quarters. Would you like to come over tomorrow evening? You said you were curious about chess.” It would be fun regardless of whether or not they ended up having sex (though Julian did want to explore oral sooner rather than later).

“If you’ll consider extending the cultural exchange to kotra,” replied Garak.

“Fair enough.” Julian stood, somewhat reluctantly. He needed to sleep, but he didn’t want the evening to end. “Do you have a book for me? It’s your turn to choose.”

Garak smiled, the subtle one where he wasn’t trying to fool you and his eyeridges moved just so. Julian was increasingly confident that this was his smile of genuine pleasure. “May I bring it tomorrow?”

“Of course.” After a moment of debate, Julian decided to skip the goodnight kiss. Best not to misstep after such a good evening. “I look forward to it.”

“As do I. Goodnight, Julian.” Oh, it was lovely to hear his first name instead of ‘Doctor.’

“Goodnight, Garak.”

Julian returned to his own quarters by way of Cloud Nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you think. =)
> 
> Epilogue to follow.


	4. Epilogue

One Bajoran month after her brief visit to the Deep Space Nine, Mayrebel, the Organian social responsibility representative, contacted Jadzia.

“I don’t want you to feel I ask you to break confidences, but we would appreciate an update on the two who were impacted by the device your people found,” she said. She’d been distraught to learn the telepathic scanner had worked. At the time, Julian was pretty distraught, too.

Now he was one of the happiest people on the station. In fact, he’d been in such a constant good mood that even Miles O’Brien, who had reservations about the relationship, grudgingly conceded that Garak was good for him. Two days earlier, Jadzia had referred to Julian’s lunch with Garak as a date, and he’d blushed but didn’t object to her word choice. She could therefore honestly report, “Oh, they’re grateful for their encounter with it.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” Even Garak, which was really saying something.

“It brings me relief to hear this news.”

“I’m glad I could put your mind at ease,” said Jadzia.

Mayrebel nodded. “Thank you, Dax.” With that, she ended the call.

Organians weren’t much for small talk, which was too bad because Jadzia thought they would have fascinating perspectives. As a joined Trill, she understood better than most why Organians would find it tiresome to be interviewed about their life experiences with people who could never have a frame of reference to comprehend.

Anyway, it was almost time to meet Kira for her next springball lesson. Jadzia thought it couldn’t hurt to arrive early and stretch. Her game needed all the help it could get, so she changed out of her uniform and headed out the door.

A few meters down the corridor, she saw Garak waiting outside Julian’s door with a bottle in hand. He nodded politely in acknowledgement as Jadzia walked by. She smiled at him, glad to see he and Julian so obviously happy with each other.

She heard a door open, then Julian said, “Hello, Garak.”

“Good evening. One of my customers paid in trade. I believe you enjoy Saurian brandy?”

“This is an excellent vintage,” said Julian, audibly impressed.

“Is it? I really don’t know much about Saurian brandy.”

That the statement was an obvious lie didn’t seem to bother Julian in the least. “I’m sure you don’t. Come in.”

The telepathic scanner could’ve been a disaster. Dax had witnessed dozens of friendships over the course of several lifetimes which were ruined by much less, so Jadzia was relieved Julian and Garak’s wasn’t one of them.

They really were adorable together.

* * *

Their latest reading was, of all things, a Ferengi novel. This was not Garak’s choice, but evidently Julian had been in the mood for something different. Or he’d taken Quark’s complaining that the Federation never gave serious consideration to Ferengi culture entirely too much to heart. Either way, Garak found himself with no choice but to read _Pol’s Emporium_ , according to the terms of their longstanding agreement regarding literature selection.

It was slightly better than Garak had anticipated, but only because his expectations were dismally low in the first place. In comparison, even Wilde was a talented author.

“You know what I think this book is really about?” asked Julian.

“The acquisition of wealth?” There was no subtlety whatsoever, which hadn’t surprised Garak in the least. It made for dull reading.

“No. Well, on the surface, yes, but it seems to me the underlying message is that wealth provides only the illusion of control.”

“I believe you’re letting your Federation ideals cloud your interpretation,” Garak said. Wealth as the illusion of control was a valid (if not flawless) hypothesis in general terms. Imposing it on _Pol’s Emporium_ was closer to wishful thinking than reasoned analysis. “Do you really mean to suggest this book has been a bestseller for the past century on Ferenginar and they’ve somehow missed a hidden meaning which is an anathema to their culture?”

“I’ll admit it’s unlikely at first glance,” said Julian.

“This book was recommended by Quark.” If it had been Rom, Garak might’ve given more credence to Julian’s theory.

Undeterred, Julian hastily swallowed a bite of salad and retorted, “I doubt he’s taken much time away from his business plans to ponder the deeper meaning of Pol’s bad luck.”

“We’re clearly supposed to attribute the misfortunes to ineptitude.”

“But he wasn’t inept, Garak, that’s my point.” Julian waved his fork in a gesture which might have meant something to a human but was lost on Garak and managed to be hopelessly endearing all the same.

“He was by Ferengi standards.” Garak carefully sliced his Andorian fish ball. It was one of the Replimat’s newest dishes and he intended to add it to his regular rotation. Truth be told, however, he relished the debate with Julian far more, particularly when Julian leaned in with the particular glimmer in his eye which meant he felt confident in his next line of argument.

“How was Pol supposed to predict that a hired arsonist would mix up addresses and destroy his store?”

“I believe the lesson was supposed to be that he ought to have more thoroughly researched his insurance agent instead of falling prey to a scam.” Personally, Garak was of the opinion that a strong state had much to offer by way of preventing fake insurance companies from defrauding businesses.

“A scam which took in fully a third of his neighbors as well,” pointed out Julian, looking very pleased with his performance in the debate thus far, and not without cause. “You see? No ineptitude. No matter how much latinum Pol accumulated, there were always factors outside of his control, and that’s what he had to learn. There’s no amount he could put in a vault which would keep him safe for the rest of his life.”

Garak conceded, at least to himself, that Julian’s interpretation wasn’t unreasonable. It was also most definitely _not_ what the author had intended. “Ferengi do not seek wealth to remain free from harm. They see it as an end unto itself.”

The last few weeks – and some independent research into human sexuality – had proven that Julian was as good as his word. He did not think any less highly of Garak and seemed quite happy to go on advocating for questionable positions on literature and philosophy at lunch even as Garak regularly and enthusiastically allowed himself to be fucked. Furthermore, Julian had started requesting Garak’s company on excursions which humans would consider dates, such as attending a concert, and sometimes these evenings didn’t end with a single piece of clothing removed. (More often, by mutual preference, they did.) It was unheard of, to a Cardassian, but evidently quite normal to humans and the Federation at large.

“Wealth is their religion,” countered Julian. “That doesn’t negate my point.”

No, it did not. Garak loaded his fork and marshalled his arguments. Julian was providing him with an excellent challenge today.

It appeared, incredibly, that not everything which sounded too good to be true actually was. The Ferengi could keep their vaults of latinum. Garak found himself with astounding fortune of a much more satisfying variety.


End file.
